On Tour
by Damn the Torpedoes
Summary: Five Fellowship members have formed a highly-successful pop group. Chapter Two updated... please read and review! Purdy Please? Flames accepted, but not appreciated!
1. Dancing Lessons Or Not

Hiy'all! OK, first of all, this story is based in the modern world, and it's about the Lord of the Rings characters and a pop group. It's not a stupid 'Fellowship in the real world' story- though it may be to you, not me. Please review- critisism, suggestions and maybe even a few compliments are welcome! However, if you just review to flame me without constructive critisim or advice I'm not interested, and they will go to the Balrog along with posters of Gary Speed and Robbie Williams. Thanky once again and enjoy!  
  
A/N. No copyright infringement is intended and if anyone finds anything I will change it or, if it is intentional, I will disclaim it in the next chapter. JRR Tolkien owns the LotR characters not me. *crys*  
  
Thoroughly revised and re-uploaded! Obergines for all!  
  
Dancing Lessons.... or not  
  
The blonde dancer with a sweet, innocent look and a vice versa attitude flicked back her shoulders and flexed her two arms in a pumping action. She clapped her hands, and cleared her throat in order to get the attention of the unlikely group in front of her. 'OK guys, show me what you can do. Dance as if you were in a club.' she demanded in a stern voice.  
  
Stepping back, she switched on the music of a Fellowship track, What Dreams May Come, and the choreographer waited for her dance students to launch into their own vigorous moves. Instead, the five singers hung their heads, glanced sheepishly at her and appeared to be frozen rigid to the spot.  
  
'C'mon guys, just do what's comfortable for you!' she roared, attempting to encourage them.  
  
The five statues refused to budge. The reflections of their faces in the massive mirrored wall of the studio clearly revealed their gut-wrenched nerves. A tanned Merry sucked in his cheeks. Dark, broody Aragorn rocked his right leg back and forth. Grey-eyed Legolas fidgeted with his baseball cap. Tousle-haired Pippin pulled one of his manic faces; and stocky Gimli's solemn look and navel-gazing gives the impression that he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him.  
  
Clearly embarrassed and fearful of appearing foolish in front of this world- renowned choreographer, who has worked with everyone from Celebrían to the Elvish Brothers, none of the Fellowshippers are eager to make the first move.  
  
Éowyn sighed and shook her head. This was going to be more difficult than she'd first thought. It was the first morning of Fellowship's first day of rehearsals in Osgiliath for their Middle-Earth Tour that kick-started in just four weeks time. Éowyn, the wiry bundle of energy and personality, had been drafted in to whip Fellowship into shape as dancers. They may have created pop history, scoring SIX number one hits in a row, but the five stars weren't like most bands because they haven't been trained as dancers. They were a vocal group. They didn't dance. But they had ambitious plans for their Middle-Earth Tour, which would put them right up there as a live act, and Fellowship had a challenge on their hands. They had become idols to a generation of teens and twenty- somethings, but now needed to prove themselves as stage entertainers. Their performance would have to be visually exciting, energetic and nothing like what the critics and fans would expect or would have seen before.  
  
This morning, however, their star status appeared to have been thrown out with the Christmas wrapping paper. The fired-up choreographer hadn't yet managed to find the fighting spirit that had taken the band to the top of the pop world.  
  
She wasn't looking for any extravagent footwork or extreme flamboyance. When the renowned Éowyn signed up to choreograph the show, the showy diva had known Fellowship weren't a dance act. But she'd expected them to be able to do SOME dancing.  
  
'C'mon Gimli, you can do it, give it a go,' she prodded, waving her arms wildly in front of him. 'I can't,' he insisted, glued to the spot with a pained expression on his face. Gimli rubbed his muscular arms and shoulders as though he had a chill, and nervously tucked a strand of flaming red hair behind his ear. Gimli wasn't amazingly handsome like, for example, Legolas or Aragorn, but he was definitely good-looking in his own way. Still, he wasn't exactly built for dancing. Clearly, Éowyn would have to work on some confidence-building excercises. She turned the music off, swung her arms as though they were on a hinge and called the boys around her.  
  
"I have to see you move before I can choreograph anything for you,' she told them, scanning their terrified faces and recognising their nervousness. 'That's how I work. Every group is different in every way, so moves and routines etcetera have to be tailor made for Fellowship so you are all comfortable with them.'  
  
The animated Éowyn had their attention and the ice was begining to melt. Gimli was even showing the trace of a smile.  
  
'Now, I know this isn't easy but it's got to be done. Now, let's show you how.'  
  
Éowyn beckoned over her Hobbit assistant Rosie Cotton, who had been hovering in the background. She was half the size of Éowyn, (which brought an immediate look of relief to the faces of Merry, Pippin and Gimli) with a quiet, reserved personality.  
  
Éowyn bounced across the room to turn up the music system, and she and Rosie launched into a series of moves that appeared effortles. The five boys watched in amazement at the fluent routine and soon they forgot their fears and began to join in.  
  
'Whoo!' roared Éowyn, 'now we're going.'  
  
The girls got the lads to prepare to do their solo spots now some of the nerves had been demolished.  
  
'It's like being back at school.' moaned Merry.  
  
'Will we get lines?' Pippin asked jokingly.  
  
'Damn right you will!' Éowyn told them sternly, with a glower.  
  
There was a moment of silence until everybody began to laugh. Bonds were beginning to form. Which would probably mean there would be no excuses for slacking off, Pippin recalled later that evening in the bar.  
  
It was too late to look back at it now, Legolas had responded despondently.  
  
~~~~  
  
Well, how was it? Please r+r, but please be gentle with me. I'm very fragile ^-^. ~ Damn the Torpedoes 


	2. Wakeup Call and Pip's Car

Thankyou soooooo much to all you people who've reviewed! I feel special. *sniffs* OK, updates won't be coming thick and fast cos of school, starting GCSE's and all that so yeah, this chapters up just for you guys. Be happy! Quick Stop Clerk- what are mackerals?  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing will ever be mine. I have no money since the last of it is paying for a locker and Behind the Scenes LotR book. Yup. That's it. Now... let's get back to the Fellowship...  
  
On Tour- Wake-Up Call and Pip's Car  
  
Éomer sighed and pulled his fingers through his uncombed blonde hair, and rubbed his unshaven chin. He checked his watch. He scratched his ear. He yawned widely. The phone continued to ring, the dull tone resounding inside his eardrum, echoing through his sleep-fuddled head. Eventually, his patience paid off, and he got an answer.  
  
"'lo?"  
  
"Are you up, Pippin?" What a stupid question, Éomer thought, of course he's not up!  
  
"Whaa? Oh... yeah."  
  
"You need to get a move on. I expect you down here in an HOUR, OK?"  
  
"Whatever, 'omer..."  
  
The same regime was repeated every morning. Éomer rang every member of Fellowship, and found that none of them had made a move. Half an hour later he called again and found them all in a similar state. Comatose.  
  
"Pippin?" Éomer tried his 'no-nonsense' voice, "Are you up?"  
  
"Yeah... sure Iam..."  
  
"Peregrin, I want you down here in THIRTY MINUTES, okay?"  
  
Calls to Merry, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn showed that they had made no progress either. Eventually Éomer was forced to drag Gimli from bed by the ankles.  
  
"Gimli, I mean business now! I know you guys are tired, I'm tired too, but we have WORK TO DO!!" The dwarf blinked at him, looking, as Éomer knew the female fans would put it, stangely adorable as he tried to focus, his hair sticking up in all avaliable directions. Eventually, he understood and then bowed his head sheepishly. With a sigh, Éomer proceeded to rouse the rest of the band. Aragorn refused point-blank to remove his head from beneath his pillow until Éomer soaked a sponge in his bathroom, and dropped it with a satisfying splat onto his chest, at which point he sat up with a surprised yelp, only to have his clothes thrown at him.  
  
There were times when Éomer considered being tour manager to be one of the worst things he'd signed up for. Well.... after that rugby game. He shuddered to remember it.  
  
************************************  
  
"Oh, buggrit..." Éomer swore when he arrived at the studios. A small group of young girls were hanging around outside clutching scraps of paper, pens and cameras, huddled together and whispering excitedly. As Éomer's car drew up, they all hushed, and stared at him. The tour manager then knew what animals in the zoo must feel like. Their secret had leaked out.  
  
"How are ya, girls?" he asked, pushing down his irritation in an attempt to be polite, as he strolled through the throng after parking his car.  
  
He made it inside without too much trouble and proceeded to make himself a coffee. He furrowed around in the fridge before finding what smelt like month-old milk. He poured it into his coffee anyway and soon discovered that it probably was month-old milk. After a while of swilling it around his mouth, he decided that he didn't care and gulped the rest down anyway. An eruption of screams and cries of 'Oh my Eru!' informed Éomer that at least one band member has just arrived. Right on cue, Pippin tumbled through the door, looking terrified and as though he had been pulled through about three hedges backwards. He scrambled up, tripped over his large furry feet, and fell over again.  
  
"Eru!" the Hobbit gasped, "How did they all get here? Can I have a coffee? Has anyone else arrived? Do you have anything to eat? Can you help me up? Is Éowyn coming today?" he said all that in one breath.  
  
"Dunno, sure, no, no, no and maybe." Éomer answered, used to Pippin's reel of questions and practised in the art of remembering them all and answering them all in the right order. "If this keeps up we're gonna have to get security in again."  
  
"Oh, NO!" wailed Pippin, clambering up more carefully, and taking the mug of coffee Éomer gave him. He took a sip, paused and then smiled. "Mm mm!" he said, "What brand IS this?" He finished the rest in one gulp.  
  
"Oh no what?" came another voice. Merry sauntered through the doors looking none-the-worse for wear with a grin on his face and a teddy-bear in his hands. "Oh no, Merry got a bigger cheer that me?" The hobbit pulled back his curly hair in what he thought was a suave manner and placed his latest aquisition (resplendent with a huge heart and 'MB' emblazoned on it) on the counter in the small kitchen.  
  
"You did did not!"  
  
"I did to!"  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did to!"  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"Did not!"  
  
Their arguement was suddenly completely drowned out by the largest scream of noise that has ever hit the Earth. There were cries of, 'Oh Manwe! He's SO FIT!!!" and, "I GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH!! I don't believe it!!" Both hobbit's heads whipped around in unision, and Éomer dropped a coffee mug, swearing as his hand got burnt, and rushed to the cold tap.  
  
All three rolled their eyes as Legolas strode casually through the studio door with a smugger than smug expression on his face, a floury bacon roll with crisp bacon sticking out on either side in his hand. Pippin's mouth dropped open.  
  
"Good morning." Legolas smiled breezily, "Still waiting for our dear Dwarf and Man are we?" "Where did you get that!?" exclaimed Pippin, making a dive for Legolas's roll. The Elf, however, had anticipated such a reaction, and held it out of harm's way, so the hobbit crashed, for the third time, into the floor. "Ah ah, shortie!" Legolas teased, taking a huge bite, "Bacon rolls are for those who take the time to buy them!" he held out his spare hand, and pulled Pippin to his feet. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed around the studio as both doors were flung wide in a show of exaggerated drama.  
  
"The King has arrived!" came a loud pronouncement as the door shut, drowning out yet more screams. Aragorn stood with arms spread wide and a broad grin over his face, his trademark stubble perfectly shaved halfway between 'beard' and 'clean shaven', his hair crammed under a baseball cap.  
  
"Oh joy." muttered Merry sarcastically.  
  
Two minutes after Aragorn, Gimli scrambled through the door, tripped up the step, and was saved from falling by Legolas. "Thankyou!" the Dwarf gasped, pulling himself upright and re-adjusting his red shirt. "How in Middle-earth did all those girls know we were here?" "Ilúvatar knows," Éomer sighed, rubbing his eyes as he came over to the group with a bunch of microphone stands under his arm. "You okay, Gimli?"  
  
"A Dwarf is always okay!" exclaimed Gimli in mock indignance, "What a preposterous question!"  
  
****************************************  
  
"Calm down, Pip!" Gimli exclaimed, wondering if he were going to have to physically restrain the hobbit from tearing his hair out.  
  
"I only got it last week! This is JUST typical!" Pippin and Gimli were standing in the carpark alone. Pippin was horrified, to say the least. His brand spanking new car had been scratched. The BMW was Pippin's pride and joy and would need re-spraying to repair the damage. He was devastated.  
  
"Merry said something about seeing some Men hanging around during lunch- break," Gimli offered, giving up on calming the distraught hobbit, "He told them to stay away from the cars. They must've scratched yours when they meant to scratch Merry's."  
  
Pippin's angry look vanished slowly. He pulled a sleeve across his face before looking at the car again with a steely glint in his eye and a fixed expression. "We'll have to get Faramir and Boromir to set a security around the cars tomorrow, I guess. It's worse luck, I thought we'd make it too the tour without need for the security." He looked doleful, but opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat. He paused as he slotted the key into the ignition, before leaning out of the window and calling after the Dwarf's retreating back, "You want a lift the hotel?"  
  
Gimli looked back at him gratefully, "Cheers."  
  
He got into the car beside Pippin, and they began the fifteen minute journey to the hotel in the middle of town. It was quite late, and the hobbit drove slowly, keeping his lights on and checking carefully for pedestrians. It was dark and there was a blind corner ahead. Suddenly, out of the blue, a car came skidding round the corner in a screech of brakes.  
  
"Idiot!" exclaimed Gimli, instinctively bracing himself as the car managed to maneuver back onto the road without changing speed, and coming speeding straight towards them.  
  
"He won't stop!" Pippin cried. He and Gimli both dived forward, Pippin wrenched the steering wheel round to avoid a collision as he did so. Both were propelled forward, and Gimli's head cracked against the dashboard. Pippin was jerked forward then back like a rag-doll, a sharp pain shooting up his neck from the whip-lash movement. With a sickening crash, metal and metal connected, and the car ground to a halt. The other swerved away, preventing any further damage, and sped off into the night.  
  
Slowly, Pippin pushed himself into a sitting position. His left hand gripped the steering wheel, and he had to use his other hand to prise it off. He gritted his teeth as he steeled himself from crying out in pain. His left arm freed, it hung limply at his side, obviously broken, Gingerly, he checked his head, and winced when he felt a large tender bruise already formed. "Gimli? Gimli, are you okay?" He asked, his voice seeming croaky and far-away.  
  
"Urgh... ye-ah..." the Dwarf groaned, "What... what happened? Pippin? Are- are you okay?"  
  
"A few bumps and bruises and my arm's a bit knackered. You?"  
  
"I don't know... I feel like Balin tried to screw my head off." In the dim light, Pippin saw Gimli slowly force himself into a sitting position, and both hands go to his chest as he gasped in pain.  
  
"Ribs?" The hobbit queried, fearing the worst.  
  
"I... I think so. What happened?"  
  
"I'll explain in a moment," Pippin told his friend, unsure of what exactly had happened himself. "C'mon, we need to get out." Pippin, carefully because of his arm, climbed out of the car and moved as quickly as he was able to help Gimli. He supported the Dwarf with his good arm until they were both free of the vehicle.  
  
Their legs hardly able to support them, they both stood trembling with the shock of the crash. Gimli's concussion appeared to have knocked out his pride for the time being and he allowed Pippin to support him as best he could. As luck would have it, a police car was driving toward them with lights flashing. The familiar black figure of the Nazgul Police Service was visible getting out and coming towards them.  
  
"You two okay?"  
  
"A bit beaten, same as my poor car." Pippin sighed, swaying slightly as he surveyed the wreck of metal that just that morning had been a beautiful week-old BMW.  
  
"And you were worried about a scratch." Gimli muttered darkly, trying to ignore the fact that the world was finding it amusing to swim in and out of focus, and all sound was imitating a badly tuned radio, going louder, then softer, then louder again.  
  
He vaguely remember being supported to a taxi, and a Nazgul-Officer telling the driver to go with all speed to the hospital, and Pippin calling his name, before darkness took over.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Tada! You like? Unfortunately, this is not meant to be a humour fic. It's light-hearted yes, but not mindless humour. I'm trying to make this into quite an original piece of work. Please review! Pleeeease!!! And for all of you waiting for updates to 'Stranger' it will be along soon. I promise. I felt the need to tidy some stuff up with my other stories. I like everything in order here! -Damn the Torpedoes 


	3. Hospitals, Memory Tests and Irritating D...

This fic has had a jump-start all of a sudden! And first of all I need to give a huge THANKYOU and a big hug to Legolas for the plot-bunny (I wuv it!), and Gimli for beta-reading!! As a reward, here's a plug: go read Legolas and Gimli's stories. That's it. They're the funniest things I've read since the VSD's. Their name is Legolas and Gimli (no duh).  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing will ever be mine. I have no money since I have no job and any money I do get is saving up for the HoME series (do you have any idea how EXPENSIVE that is!?)  
  
~~~~  
  
Chapter Three: Hospitals, Memory Tests and Irritating Doctor's  
  
Éomer put the phone down and swore. He leant heavily on the counter, breathing fast and trying to stop his shoulders trembling. After a few moments, he managed to pull himself up to stand on his own two legs, and his brain finally forced a thought to the front of his mind, telling him to go and tell the rest of the band what had happened. Slowly, he began to walk, but his limbs didn't seem to be connected to is brain. He watched his feet as he moved. One appeared, and then disappeared, then the other one did the same... one, two, one, two... before he knew it, he was outside the band's suite. He watched his hand raise, curl into a fist and knock on the door with a sharp rap.  
  
"Yeah?" Merry called from within. Éomer took one more deep breath before entering. The band were all sprawled across the room. Merry was lounging in a chair watching satellite TV and eating a bag of crisps, Legolas was busy fiddling with Gimli's guitar, trying to tune it, and Aragorn was dozing in the other chair, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. At Éomer's entry, they all glanced up. Their tour managers grim expression told more than any words.  
  
"What's wrong?" Aragorn asked, sitting up and pulling off his cap.  
  
"Where's Gimli?" Legolas leapt up, still holding the guitar, elven perceptiveness coming to life.  
  
"And Pippin." Merry added, with a pointed look at Legolas.  
  
Éomer sighed and pulled his hand through his hair, "They've been in a crash."  
  
The room went unnaturally quiet. Éomer broke it, unable to bear the deafening silence. "They're at the hospital. I've gotta go pick them up."  
  
"They're hurt!?" Merry exclaimed, standing and spilling his crisps all over the carpet.  
  
"Pippin may be concussed, and has a broken arm but they're worried about Gimli..." the tour manager trailed off and glanced over their faces  
  
"*What ABOUT Gimli!?*" Legolas almost yelled, frustration building up, "He'll be okay, won't he?"  
  
Éomer was taken aback. Legolas never yelled, never lost his temper, and was always well-groomed, cool, calm and collected. He tried to calm the Elf desperately.  
  
"I'm sure he'll be okay! He's a Dwarf after all: they can take hurt and stuff easier than other mortals-"  
  
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM!?"  
  
"He passed out on the way to the hospital and he has a couple of broken ribs. He's not woken up yet."  
  
"I'm coming with you." Legolas grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, the look of determination not totally masking his worry.  
  
"And me!" Merry cried, "I want to see Pip!"  
  
"I may as well come too then." Aragorn cut in, "I'm sure they'll be okay though."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You were in a crash, Mister Took."  
  
"I was?"  
  
"That's right. Now, if you'll please fix your eyes on my finger, and follow it please..." the doctor, a tall grey-haired man, held up a finger and moved it backwards and forwards in front of Pippin's eyes. The hobbit, feeling stupid, followed it with his gaze. "Thankyou. Now, can you please tell me your name, age and address?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I am testing for memory loss."  
  
"Oh. Er.... Pippin Took, The Smials, South Farthing, The Shire. I'm... twenty-nine."  
  
"Thankyou, Mister Took. Now, please try, dont worry if you can't, but can you please tell me what you last remember?"  
  
"Er... I was... I was at dance group with the rest of the band, and I stayed behind with Gimli... we went out to the car and then..." Pippin struggled, then shook his head, "That's all I remember till I got out the car here." another pause, "Valar! Gimli! Where is he? Is he alright!?"  
  
"Please calm yourself, Mister Took. The Dwarf is being cared for. He is unconscious for the moment but he is in no danger. Now, you must stay here and rest, you are concussed and that cast on your arm needs to set." With that, the man left. Pippin settled back against the pillow miserably. For a few moments he tried to remember what had happened. He could vaguely remember Gimli passing out in the car, and screaming at the Police-Wraith to stop, and that was as far as he got. After ten minutes he gave up and instead reverted to trying to figure out whether he'd insured his car.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Gimli soon became aware of an almost suffocating pain in his chest, and a pounding in his head that sounded very much like Merry's (very poor) taste in music being played at full blast early in the morning. It was these two things that alerted him to the fact that he was returning to reality. He groaned inwardly. He had decided that he liked unconsciousness, and would maybe buy a holiday home there.  
  
Soon he decided that if he were being forced back here, he may as well try to figure out where he was: he could hear some muffled sounds of people bustling to and fro, as well as voices. It was his sharp sense of smell that determined for him where he was; it was the antiseptic, strangely metallic smell of a hospital.  
  
'Great' he thought to himself, 'I'm in hospital. Pretty soon there will be tons of reporters swarming round asking what happened. Come to that.... what did happen?' The scratch, the blue car, the crash, Pippin....  
  
At that, Gimli sat bolt upright, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in his chest, and opened his eyes, ignoring also the bright light assaulting his worn out retina, "Mahal! Pippin!" Almost immediately a doctor was there, trying to get him to relax and lie down. However, he had not bargained for the fact that dwarves, whilst half the height of men, were at least three times as strong, and this one wasn't going down without a fight.  
  
Finally the man gave up, and faced the Dwarf's glittering brown glare. "Where's Pippin?" the Dwarf demanded, "And what happened?"  
  
The doctor sighed and pulled a hand over his eyes. He didn't need this. He was working twelve hour shifts but it seemed a hell of a lot longer, and the last thing he wanted was a stubborn Dwarf. He wasn't even that fond of dwarves. He decided the best thing to do was try to be calm and patient. "You were in a crash"  
  
"I know that. Have they caught the maniac who came round that corner?"  
  
"I'm afraid I am not able to give such information."  
  
"Well give this information, Einstein: where's Pippin?" Gimli was usually very polite and well-spoken, and had once been hailed as having a 'silver tongue' but right now he was in pain, with an irritating doctor, he had no idea where his friend was or how he was and, to top it off, there were little flashing lights swirling round and clouding his vision. He was allowed to be a little cranky.  
  
"He is well. He is concussed and a broken arm, but it is nothing serious. Is that enough?"  
  
Even if it wasn't enough, Gimli suspected he wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough to hear any more. The world had suddenly decided that it would be fun to tip precariously sideways. "Yes..." Gimli managed to mutter before collapsing back onto the pillows.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Éomer, Aragorn and Legolas barged through the hospital doors, with Merry running behind them, grumbling about 'long-legged big folk and their complete disregard for those of challenged height'. The four came to a dead halt at the counter, where the receptionist gave them an annoyed look but put down her pen.  
  
"May I help you, sir?" she asked in an icy voice.  
  
"Our friends are here. They were in a crash..." Éomer told her desperately.  
  
"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a litte more specific, sir. Plenty of people here have been in crashes."  
  
"They're a hobbit and a dwarf. Pippin and Gimli? From the Fellowship?"  
  
"Ah. Yes, I know, sir. Doctor Madril!" she called over to a tall grey- haired doctor, who hurried over, "This is Doctor Madril. He's treating your friends."  
  
"How's Pippin!?" Merry exclaimed, elbowing forwards and glaring up at the man.  
  
"The hobbit? He is well. A little concussed and with a broken arm but well nonetheless. You may see him if you wish."  
  
"And Gimli?" Legolas asked, worry evident in his tone.  
  
"Ah... he woke up a while ago, but passed out again after a few minutes of conversation. We will have to keep him in a while longer, just to check that there is no lasting damage. I will have to prevent you from seeing him tonight, unless he wakes again."  
  
This man had obviously never been confronted with a very worried, very anxious Elven member of a band, whose best friend was hurt and unconscious under his care. Obviously he didn't enjoy being confronted with one. And didn't want to be confronted with one again.  
  
"No." Legolas almost radiated coldness. Éomer put a hand on his shoulder, but the Elf shrugged it off angrily. "I'm going to see him *tonight* whether you like it or not."  
  
"I-I-I'm afraid that is not possible. He is in a... a very bad way."  
  
"I think," Legolas's voice, if it were possible, became even icier, "That I know what's best for my best friend. He will wake up when I see him, I promise you. And..." there was a pause, and a smile grew on the Elf's lips, "If he's unconscious, visiting him can hardly hurt now, can it?"  
  
Doctor Madril gaped for a moment, floundering for an answer. Then he sighed. "Very well. I will show you to the Hobbit's room first."  
  
They followed Doctor Madril along a maze of corridors, up stairs and past other rooms. Strange alien machines lined the corridors and beeped at them; nurses and doctors bustled past with clipboards, medicine bags and the like, people were being pushed around in wheelchairs, there were people on crutches lurtching through the hospital.... Merry wondered how in Middle- earth Doctor Madril was able to find his way.  
  
Eventually, he came to a halt in front of a room and opened the door. "Here you are." he said, "Now don't make too much noise, and don't jolt him about, alright? The dwarf is two doors down to the left." then he walked off.  
  
"Pippin!!" Merry bounded into the room and leapt onto Pippin's bed, strangling the other hobbit in a huge hug.  
  
"Hello, Pip. How are ya?" Aragorn asked, with varying similar greetings from the others.  
  
"I'm good, I think. My arm aches like Mordor though." The youngest band member pulled a face and laughed slightly. "I don't think Éowyn is gonna be all too pleased. Me and Gimli are terrible enough dancers as it is, without this!"  
  
"Did they say when you were gonna be allowed back?" Éomer asked. He had visibly paled at the thought of what his sister was going to say when she heard.  
  
"They said tomorrow, but no straining myself for a week. I can sing, but not dance or rehearse. I don't know what we're going to do about the tour now!"  
  
"We'll have to put it on hold," said Aragorn, "Pippin will only be able to make it by a hair's breadth and there is no way on Middle-earth Gimli will manage."  
  
Éomer rubbed his fashionably unshaven chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I have no idea what your managed is going to say." he eventually managed to mutter.  
  
Aragorn grinned, "I had some news for Gandalf that he wasn't going to be too pleased about, but it can wait..."  
  
"What news?" Legolas asked, suddenly curious.  
  
"Erm... I'll tell you all some other time, okay?"  
  
"Aragorn!" Merry wailed.  
  
"Some other time." Aragorn told him severely.  
  
"Oh, Aragooooorn-! Éomer, tell him!"  
  
"No, Merry. Aragorn will tell us when he wants." Éomer informed the older hobbit, struggling with his own curiosity.  
  
They remained in Pippin's room for a good half an hour, mostly discussing plans for the up-coming Tour, and possible reactions from Gandalf when he discovered that they would have to set the Tour back. It would be a miracle if he hadn't heard about the accident yet. After half an hour, Pippin yawned widly and announced that he was tired. They all left the room quietly, and the Hobbit was fast asleep before they'd all passed through the door.  
  
~I thought I'd leave it there as I'm a lazy bugger so there we go. Aragorn's news will show up in a couple of chapters, maybe even next chapter. Please leave a review on your way out, and please do not pet the plot-bunnies. Thankyou! ~DtT 


End file.
